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LINES 

WRITTEN   BY 

DEXTER    SMITH 

AND    READ    BY 

Miss  MARGARET   ANGLIN 

Of  Charles  Frohman's  Empire  Theatre  Company,  of  Neiv 

York,  on  the  Occasion  of  the  Last  Performance  ever 

given  in  the  Boston  Museum,  on  Monday,  June 

i,  1903,  Prior  to    the   Demolition 

of  the  Building.  ♦ 


Ring  down  the  final  curtain  !      Stay !      A  word ; 
First  let  our  humble  epilogue  be  heard  ! 

What  echoes  from  these  walls  reverberate! 

What  spirits  at  our  summons  congregate  ! 

As  standing  here,  within  the  Century's  door, 

We  see  processions  of  the  years  before,  — 

The  heroes,  heroines,  of  mimic  life 

Go  marching  on  in  scenes  of  peace  or  strife  : 

The  kings  and  queens,  that  once  their  sceptres  bore, 

Reigned  for  a  season  and  are  here  no  more. 

They  came,  they  went,  yet  on  the  passing  age 

They  pressed  the  seal  of  an  uplifting  stage  ! 

When  Moses  Kimball  firm  foundation  laid, 

What  giant  undertaking  he  essayed ! 

With  Sedley  Smith,  and,  later,  E.    F.   Keach, 

He  was  enabled  grand  results  to  reach ; 

From  his  rare  plant  there  came  a  goodly  yield 

When  nurtured  into  bloom  by  R.  M.  Field, 

Until  the  Boston  Museum  became 

A  garden  of  delights,  of  deathless  fame. 

To  foster  Art  their  fruitful  lives  were  spent ; 

Could  Man  desire  more  noble  monument  ? 

On  these  grand  boards,  Shakespeare's  immortal  words 

Have  played  on  human  hearts  as  living  chords ; 

Have  roused  ambition,  have  soothed  sorrow's  pain, 

Raised  stricken  souls  to  heights  of  joy  again. 

This  is  the  mission  of  the  Drama,  writ 

In  lines  of  flame  —  to  make  life  strong  and  fit 

To  bear  the  burdens  and  to  ease  the  care 

That  all  humanity  must  ever  share. 

Though  many  stars  have  scintillated  here 
And  myriad  players  shone  from  year  to  year, 
The  grand  stock  company,  our  very  own, 
Here  claims  precedence,  if  not  praise  alone. 

Kate  Reignolds,  who  with  polished  art  enthrals, 
Whose  Lady  Teazle  lives  in  memory's  halls ; 
W  hose  Bonnie  Fishwife,  with  its  quaint  old  lay 
Of  "  Caller  Herrin"  charms  our  hearts  to-day; 


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What  sweeter  portrait  than  her  Juliet  ? 
.  And  who.  her  Colleen  Baivn  can  e'er  forget  ? 
'Her  gracfoks "kindness  to  the  struggling  class 

Ne'er  from  their  grateful  memories  will  pass. 
:On  "hearts  sublime  she  met  the  Drama's  stress; 
-'Always -the* 'Artist .—  not  the  Woman  less! 

To  Annie  Clarke,  of  sweetest  memory, 

We  bring  the  flowers  of  love  and  loyalty. 

'T  is  well  the  fair  forget-me-not  we  weave 

Within  the  wreath  which  o'er  her  name  we  leave. 

We  hear  the  echoes  of  her  Lady  Gay ; 

In  arch  Peg  Woffington  her  art  had  play ; 

The  noble-hearted,  to  ideals  true, 

She  left  a  benefaction  ever  new : 

It  is,  that  aspiration,  study,  toil, 

Make  an  endowment  nothing  can  despoil ! 

Dear  Mistress  Vincent,  loved  of  Boston's  heart, 
Brought  out  the  woman's  side  in  every  part ; 
Her  Mrs.  Malaprop  we  still  recall, 
And  her  quaint  Hannah  Partridge  first  of  all. 
Her  heart  was  open  as  her  aim  was  true, 
With  honest  purpose  steadfastly  in  view ; 
With  human  interests  her  duty  lay ; 
To  her  this  life  was  as  a  perfect  play, 
With  Love-constructed  plot,  with  every  line 
To  lead  to  Charity,  as  to  a  shrine. 

Of  William  Warren,  who  shall  fitly  speak? 

In  vain  for  proper  eulogy  we  seek ; 

He  stood  conspicuous  for  all  that  Art 

With  highest  standards  sets  its  works  apart. 

Through  him,  Sir  Peter  Teazle  lived  anew, 

And  his  Sir  Harcourt  to  a  classic  grew ; 

Where  can  his  Jesse  Rural  be  surpassed  ? 

Where  his  delightful  Batkins  now  be  cast? 

His  fame  was  national,  though  Boston  claimed 

Him  citizen,  in  local  spirit  framed, 

He  graced  this  stage  for  two  score  years  and  more, 

An  artist,  —  gentleman,  straight  to  the  core. 

For  triumphs  of  perfection  e'er  he  strove 

And  won  the  people's  plaudits  and  their  love 

To  our  Charles   Barron  let  us  tribute  pay  — 

The  gifted  all-round  actor  of  our  day. 

How  well  remembered  here  for  his  Renaud ; 

His  Sir  Giles  has  the  true  artistic  glow ; 

He  plays  /ago  with  consummate  art; 

He  ever  sinks  himself  within  his  part. 

His  native  city  follows  his  career 

With  pride,  and  ever  bids  him  welcome  here. 

George  Wilson,  master  of  Protean  powers, 

Has  here  enlivened  many  sombre  hours ; 

Not  only  with  the  jester's  cap  and  bell 

Has  he  won  fame,  for  pathos  fits  him  well. 

With  true  vis  comica  and  subtle  skill 

He  moves  his  ductile  audience  at  will. 

His  range  of  characters,  so  varied,  wide, 

Embraces  every  phase  of  Art,  and  side. 

What  more  piquant  and  crisp  than  his  command 

Of  that  now  famous  phrase  —  "  Guv'nor,  yer  'and." 


There  lives  to-day,  but  not  in  Boston's  zone, 
An  artist  who  once  held  the  town  her  own, 
With  higher  powers  of  a  fertile  mind 
Her  beauty,  grace  and  sprightliness  combined 
To  bring  success.     'T  is  sixty  years  ago 
Since  first  upon  our  stage  she  made  her  bow 
In  that  first  company  to  gather  here. 
Now,  Mistress  G.  C.  Howard,  she  was  dear 
To  patrons  of  this  house  in  earliest  days 
Ere  she,  as  Topsy,  won  immortal  bays. 
May  we  to-night  amid  our  smiles  and  tears 
Wish  her  all  happiness  in  her  ripe  years. 

Good  Mistress  Jacob  Barrow  —  who  has  seen 

More  finished  grace  than  bore  this  matchless  queen? 

Here  the  career  of  Mary  Shaw  began ; 

And  Marie  Wainwright  shaped  artistic  plan ; 

Adelaide  Phillips,  she  of  genius  rare ; 

To  find  her  equal  one  would  quite  despair ; 

Viola  Allen  here  evolved  a  ray 

Of  that  bright  genius  which  is  hers  to-day ; 

Here  Mistress  E.  L.  Davenport  held  sway 

As  did  her  gifted  daughters,  Blanche  and  May ; 

Blithesome  Kate  Ryan,  buoyant  Amy  Ames ; 

Pert  Ada  Gilman  recognition  claims  ; 

Here  Sadie  Martinot,  with  matchless  grace, 

Brought  Lady  Angela  to  foremost  place ; 

Here  Fannie  Pitt  most  popular  became ; 

And  Mary  Cary  played  to  great  acclaim ; 

Bonny  Grace  Atwell  gave  rich  promise  here ; 

Louisa  Meyers  brought  Polly  Eccles*  cheer. 

What  singing  chambermaids  !  Ah  !  one  forgets  :  — 
In  those  good  days  they  were  not  called  soubrettes  ! 
Here  Josie  Orton  reigned  —  Comedy's  queen  ; 
And  Miriam  O'Leary's  charming  art  was  seen. 

Every  admirer  of  its  history  knows 

How  much  this  playhouse  to  Fred  Williams  owes  ; 

Here  J.  A.  Smith  was  long  of  fops  the  king; 

What  bubbling  humor  oozed  from  J.  H.  Ring! 

Grand  old  John  Gilbert  oft  joined  forces  here 

And  lent  his  genius  to  the  atmosphere. 

On  this  stage  Edwin   Booth  for  the  first  time 

Essayed  the  dazzling  heights  of  Fame  to  climb ; 

Here  Lawrence  Barrett  was  once  leading  man 

Before  his  brilliant  stellar  course  began ; 

And  Charles  R.  Thorne  here  sock  and  buskin  wore  ; 

Here  John  B.  Mason  many  honors  bore; 

While  Mansfield  here  his  earlier  triumphs  won ; 

And  Sothern  in  this  stock  put  armor  on. 

Here  Joseph  Haworth  made  Patrie  a  hit ; 

C.  Leslie  Allen  was  a  favorite ; 

Here  Edgar  Davenport  sustained  the  fame 

Which  clings  forever  to  the  family  name. 

Here  Shewell,  Plympton,  Arden,  won  renown ; 

Le  Moyne's  Uriah  Heep  quite  caught  the  town. 

What  summer  seasons,  not  to  memory  lost, 

When  Willie  Edouin  led  the  merry  host ; 

When  Crane's  Le  Blanc  was  brimming  o'er  with  fun, 

And  N.  C.  Goodwin  early  favor  won. 


McClannin,  Hardenbergh,  we  still  recall ; 
And  Sol  Smith  Russell,  the  beloved  of  all; 
How  fresh  the  memory  of  Murdoch  yet. 
And  poor  George  Parks  we  never  can  forget ; 
Here  H.  M.  Pitt,  grand  Earl  in  "  Fauntleroy," 
Is  well  remembered;  how  we  did  enjoy 
The  unctiousness  of  J.  H.  Nolan's  "bits"! 
Seymour  and  Stevenson  were  favorites ; 
George  Riddle  was  a  member  of  the  corps  ; 
Here  Carlos,  Cotter,  Burbeck,  duties  bore ; 
And  Hunter,  Pitman,  Schiller,  favor  gained 
By  efforts  well  and  carefully  sustained. 
Hudson's  Afzcawber,  on  artistic  lines, 
We  recollect.     Bright  on  the  record  shines 
The  work  of  Crisp,  of  Burrows,  and  of  all 
Who  filled  their  places  at  the  prompter's  call. 

Here,  where  his  parents  played  for  years  before, 
Appeared  Fritz  Williams  in  the  '•  Pinafore." 
'T  was  as  a  "Juvenile"  he  then  was  seen, — 
His  promise  then  has  been  fulfilled,  we  ween. 

Since  Agamemnon  wore  his  golden  mask 
And  satyrs  strove  their  features  weird  to  hide, 
Since  Mimicry  her  varied  arts  applied; 
And  Roscius  set  the  world  the  actor's  task 
Within  the  glorious  light  of  Art  to  bask, 
There  came  a  yearning  not  to  be  denied 
That  Man  might  find  Life's  saner,  sweeter  side 
And  for  a  respite  from  his  labors  ask. 
This  human  need  the  Drama  well  supplies 
So  that  it  be  of  Intellect  the  fruit ; 
Its  Love,  its  Sentiment,  its  Romance  cries 
To  Man  to  make  Life's  jarring  discords  mute ; 
And  so  refresh  his  soul,  beneath  the  guise 
Of  mimic  worlds,  as  with  Apollo's  lute ! 

Boston  Museum  !     Name  to  conjure  by ; 
Is  it  a  dream  which  brings  an  augury 
That  on  some  favored  spot  there  is  to  rise 
A  splendid  temple  towering  to  the  skies, — 
The  name,  —  traditions,  —  to  perpetuate,  — 
Its  classic  fane  to  rehabilitate? 
Its  prestige  following,  as  'twould  beseem, 
Unto  a  grander,  loftier  academe? 
Magnificent  the  vision  —  sweet  the  song 
Sung  by  the  siren  Hope  in  accents  strong; 
Prophetic  gleam  of  brilliancy  to  come 
Where  Thespis  finds  a  new  congenial  home ; 
Thalia  her  disciples  shall  unite ; 
Melpomene  and  Momus  lend  their  light, 
And  there  the  Drama's  banner  be  unfurled 
To  float  a  hope  and  blessing  to  the  world ! 

The  play  is  ended,  and  this  playhouse,  too, 
Is  now  to  pass  forever  from  our  view ; 
This  stage  will  darken  as  the  curtain  falls ; 
Oblivion  craves  these  memory-haunted  walls ; 
Farewell,  old  house,  a  tender,  last  farewell ! 
To  all  thy  echoings  we  sound  the  knell ; 
We  give  the  cue  —  one  not  heard  here  before,  — 
"  The  rest  is  silence  !  "     Now  and  evermore  ! 


ALFRED    MUDGE    &    SON,    PRINTERS,    BOSTON 


Gaylamount 

Pamphlet 

Binder 

Gaylord  Bros.,  Inc. 

Stockton,  Calif. 
T.  M.  Reg.  U.S.  Pat.  Off. 


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